


A Dance of Hunger

by LaWren0



Series: The Eighth Circle of Hell [3]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: F/M, No dance battles here, and a bit of romance, only demonic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26771854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaWren0/pseuds/LaWren0
Summary: Demons are too fast for her to actually see them in battle, but she imagines it's like dancing.
Relationships: Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Eighth Circle of Hell [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659724
Comments: 8
Kudos: 81





	A Dance of Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> A short 'what if the dance battles were actual battles' kind of piece. I wrote it in a few hours and it's mostly unedited, so I might come back to it if I hate it after a few days.

Mammon abandons her just one day in, on her first day at the Royal Academy of Diavolo. In a corridor, she overhears two demons discussing the best way to tear into her body and devour her soul. Solomon steps in but can't -or won't- tell the demons not to eat her. Instead he tells her not to look like prey. As though it's her fault, somehow. 

_'I am myself,'_ she thinks, _'What else am I supposed to look like?'_

Solomon smiles gently, something akin to pity in his eyes. He knows what's coming. She doesn't.

Yet, the later the hour, the more she can feel it. Even her, the lowly human, can sense the hunger about her. She feels like a lamb going about its day in the field, blissfully unaware that by evening, it will be on the dinner table. Eyes drill into her back until her shoulders hunch, and even fleeting glances her way have her staring at the floor. 

Later, she thinks, what if Solomon was right? 

Mammon is meant to walk her home. Or rather, back to the House of Lamentation; she is the furthest away from _home_ she has ever been. She waits in the gardens without commitment, having no reason to believe her appointed guardian will actually show up. 

Three demons approach her, despite the fact she is trying to make herself small. She recognises two of them from this morning. Breakfast was denied to them, but dinner is about to be served.

“So shiny,” one mutters, a faraway look in their eye. Another reaches out for her delicate neck with sharp claws. 

And then Mammon is there, right beside her as though he'd never left her to the wolves at all. But the demons don't give up. The two bare their teeth in challenge, and Mammon _laughs_. It's unspoken, the way they seem to know what's going on but she doesn't. 

In the next second she is facing the gates, turned around with the echo of pressure at her waist where Mammon's arm had been. Behind her, the fighting erupts. Snarls and wet thuds make her turn again, but she can't see much. Blurs of gray, a flash of Mammon's shock white hair, dull blood on the floor. They move too fast for her eyes to keep up. Leviathan breezes past her with a put upon sigh, no doubt wishing to be in his room. Asmodeus appears, flashing his perfect, bone white teeth at her before he dives in too. Now it is a battle.

Not much of one, because it is over quickly. She can't see, but she can hear; flesh tearing, bones snapping, yelps of pain and aggressive snarls. Asmo practically pirouettes back from a final spray of blood that almost catches him in the face ( _just think of my hair,_ he would lament later), and then it's over. 

Mammon is in front of her again, grinning, "Hey, did ya see that? I'm totally awesome right?!" 

She blinks a few times. She didn't see it. But he seems to be expecting something for rending two beings limb from limb for her. All she can do is reach up and place a hand on his head, confirming he really is there. Mammon seems to enjoy having her fingers in his hair, so she keeps at it until his chest vibrates with a low, purring growl. 

She thinks this won't be the last time. She must remember to praise them when they win. 

Various demons try their luck almost every day. Perhaps their hunger is too great to ignore, because even the defeated ones keep coming back. How they manage to recover from what the Lords do to them, she doesn't know. She recalls Mammon complaining once that if Lucifer ever actually killed him, it would take him five thousand years to recover. She wonders if demons can ever truly die. 

As time passes, even Barbatos steps up to battle the brothers for rights to her body and soul. “Nothing personal,” he assures her, “You simply look so palatable.” Beelzebub tells her that a lot too, in different words, so he fights to keep her. A battle happens and they go about their business as before. As though it were an accepted eventuality. As though someone trying to eat the human is a fact of life. It simply cannot be helped. 

So, she accepts this as they seem to, and carries on. 

When the brothers lose, she fully expects to die. Except, they never truly lose. They are the Seven Lords of the Devildom. Their power cannot be overcome. Yet, she soon learns that unless their opponent's essence has departed their broken body, the brothers don't consider the battle a win. It doesn't matter if the demon is chased off. It's not enough. They must try the battle again until there's nothing recognisable about the demon that challenged them. It does not matter that she is still whole regardless. 

And so, they expect punishment when they lose. It doesn't happen often. She can't bring herself to use the whips given to her even if it doesn't hurt them. Instead, when Satan shakes his head with a frustrated sigh and Mammon complains about having to take care of her, she has gifts ready. A book pressed into Satan's hands brings back the slightly fake smile to his face. She is relieved to see it tinged with genuine warmth towards her. Mammon's mood darkens further at the sight until she hands him a cup of his favourite instant noodles. He jumps at it like it's a new credit card, which leads her to conclude he must not receive gifts much. 

“That's my human, you got this,” he says, and seems proud she is cottoning on to the unspoken rules so quickly. 

Although she can't really see them battling for her soul, her subconscious must try to catch up. When she sleeps, the battles are in slow motion. Whether the things she dreams really did happen or her imagination is simply filling in the blanks, she can't guess. She hopes it's the former, because the nightmares are so violent she feels sick at the idea that they could come from her. Yet her demons are also beautiful, in a sense. Her mind replays how Lucifer's wings stretch out to intimidate those around him. Or how Asmo taunts by striking poses before breaking bones. The way Beel dodges so fluidly and then sinks his hands and fangs into flesh and tears and tears...it's almost like they are dancing. 

Solomon checks in with her again a couple months in. Approval marks his tone, “You're standing taller.”

She smiles, knowing, “I suppose I am.”

Her confidence grows as time passes. The brothers begin to battle for her because they care, as opposed to a simple obligation. For a few of them, the stakes are personal; she has promised a piece of her soul -bound by pact- and they are eager to claim it when she is ready. 

Mammon wants more. He always does. 

He is at her side at every given opportunity. Monopolising her time and attention, aggressively trying to ward all others away. Even his own brothers. _Especially_ his brothers. She accepts his awkward veiled interest with patience. Pretends not to notice his fingers trembling whenever he works up the courage to touch her. Soon, she lets him corner her in a secluded corridor at home, and press their bodies tight together. 

“I'm your first man, right?” asks Mammon, “You're mine.”

She smiles, knowing. She is no longer prey for the creatures around her. They see her as...not quite an equal, but not something to satisfy their hunger with either. And Mammon wants her as a woman. 

“Yes,” she whispers, and closes the gap between their mouths. He kisses her with a different kind of hunger than that she has grown accustomed to. He devours any affection she is willing to give. She knows when he battles for her next, it will be like dancing.


End file.
